Sure, he's low-hanging fruit and there's no shortage of excellent Friedman criticism already out there. But my friends and family have grown tired of my Friedman rants (and my wife forbade me from calling him at his home), so I need an outlet for my Friedman rage.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

The Resistance

Chapter 1

I don’t know what made me do it. Maybe I was feeling reckless. Maybe I picked
up a note of defiance in her voice as she ordered her latte. Or maybe it’s just
that as long as humans can remember Freedom, we’ll never lose our capacity to
Love.

I placed my order and as I followed her from the barista
towards the cashier, I saw my chance. Reaching for my wallet, I leaned in and
whispered, “#Drumpf.”

She didn’t acknowledge me or even flinch. Had I misjudged? I
started to panic, and my eyes instinctively glanced towards the door,
half-expecting to see the Trump Troopers. But all was quiet. She
Foursquared for her drink and headed for the door. By the time I had paid and generously tipped 12%,
she was gone.

I walked out into the bright sunlight and pulled out my phone.
A little crestfallen but also buoyed by the cherry notes of my espresso, I
pulled out my phone, and, after a quick check of my surroundings, opened Twitter.
I was just about to type in “#Drumpf” when a voice called out from the shadows,
“Do you whisper Keith Olbermann’s secret hashtag of the day in every stranger’s
ear or should I be flattered?”

I can not understand why you still on Twitter. It is all trolls and spies and you never pump the good accounts like insect Twitter anymore. Some of your friends descended into dark holes of endless bickering and obsessiveness with celebrities.How have you managed to stay so youthful above the fray and do you ever worry you will become like the real Tom Friedman one day, giving up on humanity and shilling for the NYT, fed up with the broken promises of hippies?